Tsina

I met her in the background,
Does she love me?
I don’t know...
She wears a mask.
From the back all is well;
A long gloss of black hair
And a kimono like parrots feathers
But she turns and it’s not.
She wears a mask,
A Chinese face,
Opera I think,
Like a doll,
Like a stereotype.
The smile is disconcerting...
Little slips and the gown drops.
She shows herself to me,
She gives herself to me,
Maybe,
I don’t know...
I never see her face,
Always the mask.
I kiss her everywhere but her mind
And she never sings her truth,
Even in ecstasy it never slips,
She is far stronger than I and I am sorry I will never know her.